


Change

by spiritdragon6



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky barnes x reader - Freeform, Bucky is Bae, Bucky x Reader, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Midnight Walk, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Bucky Barnes, The Avengers Are Good Bros, avengers fanfiction, bucky barnes fic, bucky barnes imagine, change, contemplating the meaning of life, friends - Freeform, the winter soldier x reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 07:36:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10759707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritdragon6/pseuds/spiritdragon6
Summary: A short fic where the reader goes for a late night walk and contemplates how becoming an Avenger and having powers changes their life. Bucky finds the reader and offers some comfort at the end.





	Change

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly different to my usual stories, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless :)

You walk through the streets of Manhattan.  _ It’s true, _ you think.  _ Perhaps the city never truly sleeps. _ Vehicles whiz past, the lights of the cars illuminating you, casting a large shadow behind you as they blind you.  _ The buildings look so tall, _ you observe as you glance around. From down here, the world looks so different. It’s almost like a different world. From the tower, everything looks so small, but from the ground, everything is ginormous. The shift in perspective is fascinating.

As you walk, you think of all of your problems, all of your insecurities. Everything seems so big and too hard to solve. You’re not sure you enjoy the fame of being a hero. You don’t even feel like one most days.  _ I’m only human, _ you think. But you’re not. You know you’re not. You sigh and watch your feet as you walk.  _ I was never human, but I always pretended to be. _

You feel like a fraud. All of the people you knew before you became an Avenger, all of your friends and colleagues at that silly diner you used to work at - they all now look at you differently. Like you’re not part of the group anymore.  _ Like I’m an animal, _ your mind supplies.  _ Like I’m a freak of nature. _ With a bitterness, you suppose that it’s true.  _ I am a freak. _ At first, when your secret was revealed to the world, you felt like you could still connect with your friends. You remember happy memories that you all created - going to see the latest films together, binge eating crappy foods, going out to parties. Over time though, all of these memories became tinged blue with sadness as your friends become more distant from you. You can never have those memories again; you can’t create more, only relive them in your head.

It’s not like you’re completely alone. It’d be silly to think so. You do have the others. Tony, the mad inventor that he is, always loves to build you new gadgets and spending time blowing things up while telling jokes never fails to cheer you up. Bruce is always there, rolling his eyes at the pair of you, giving you safety lectures. He always joins in though, eventually. 

Clint and you always find silly hideouts in the tower (usually in the vents) and set up cameras and film the others in the tower as you both pull the best pranks on them. Steve shares his newest sketches with you, telling you the stories behind them as he does so. He loves to tell you his memories of before the ice and you’re happy to indulge in his story telling. Natasha is more distant, but whenever you feel insecure or low, she seems to know. You smile faintly.  _ It’s almost like she has a radar. _ Nat is there to listen to what troubles your mind, or to sit with you in companionable silence.

Thor isn’t always around, so you don’t know him too well. But he’s always  _ so _ positive about things. You have no idea how he does it. Whenever things are rough, he has a smile that shines so bright with courage that it’s difficult not to believe that everything will be alright in a moment of crisis. Wanda, like Thor, is strong willed and filled with determination. She’s the stubborn, determined sister of the group -  _ and an excellent chef, might I add. _ Sometimes you join her in the kitchen as she cooks. It’s always a sight to behold as she uses her powers to do a hundred different things at once with all of the different utensils. Occasionally, Vision joins you both and you both teach him little things about the kitchen. His childlike curiosity and eagerness to learn new things is infectious and never fails to end with a laugh.

Lastly, there’s Bucky. You spend most of your time with him, doing whatever pleases you both. Sometimes that’s disguising yourselves, pretending to be someone you’re not. You pretend you have perfect lives, holding hands as you walk through Central Park acting as though you’re normal people. Other times, it’s holding each other when the other’s had a night terror, whispering to each other that you’re safe where you are. Bucky is battle worn at times, but at other times he smiles so brightly that your heart melts at the sight of it. The way his eyes crinkle, the way his frown vanishes from his forehead, how his teeth show and his lips stretch. The way his eyes seems to light up and that little breathy laugh he gives at the silly little things you do. You can’t help it as a small smile graces you at the thought of Bucky.  _ I’d honestly die to see him smile. _

You come to a stop in your journey. You blink in surprise at how far you’ve walked and you didn’t even realise that you’d walked here. Your eyes flick over the outside of the diner you used to work, you take in the details of the worn looking building, the oddly squeaky clean windows and the waft of late night microwaved food breezing through the crack in the doors.

Your feet carry you inside and you take in the familiar cheesy looking table and chairs, and how their red and yellow colours match the patchy, dusty floor. There are a few people sat around, mostly by themselves eating fast food and ignoring the rest of civilisation at the late hour.

“Hey, Y/N,” a voice greets you. Your head whips around. Behind the counter is one of your friends.  _ Or she was one of my friends, anyway. _ Her voice sounds stiff and slightly artificial.  _ Maybe she’s just tired, _ your mind excuses her tone.  _ Maybe she’s happy to see me, but she’s just had a long day. _ You think, forlornly. You swallow away the coil of anxiety in your stomach as you think of a response.

You’ve tried so many times to reach out to your friends, you’ve provided so many opportunities for them to reach back to you. It feels like a stab in the gut whenever they don’t seem to want to talk back to you. The loss of their friendship feels worse than any physical pain you could feel in a fight.

There are so many things you want to say to her, your childhood best friend.

_ I’ve missed you so much! _

_ Oh my god! How are you? How’s the husband? How are your parents doing? _

_ I see you’re still stuck here. Do they still give you free meals? Do you still buy that ice cream sundae after every shift? _

_ It’s so good to see you! _

_ What’s up? Your birthday was recent! How was it? Did you do anything special to celebrate? _

Instead, your shoulders drop in sadness, in deflated defeat. The numerous responses die in your throat. You place a controlled smile on your face and reply: “Hey.”

There’s no chit chat, no friendly conversation. Just an artificial smile and a simple, hollow, monotone voice. “What can I get you?”

“I-” you start. Your eyes flick to the menu that you already know by heart. Suddenly, you realise that you didn’t bring your money with you. You don’t have your bank card, you don’t have your phone.  _ Shit. _ This is the worst thing ever - now you look like a fool! You’re standing there, in a diner with no money and no excuse to be there. “I-” you try again. “Nothing, I’m sorry to disturb you.” You shake your head as you speak, turning to walk out. You hear her scoff as you push open the door.

“Freak.”

The word is spoken quietly, but loud enough for you to hear as you exit the diner. Your eyes harden and your jaw tightens. It hurts. The word hurts.

You don’t know why you keep coming back. You don’t know why you keep giving them chances. Maybe it’s because you hope that someday, things will be different. Maybe someday they’ll finally be enthusiastic to see you. Maybe they’ll change their minds about you. Maybe they’ll reach out.

You hope. But things never change.

Sometimes you feel that the past is all you have. You feel selfish for thinking that, as you have the Avengers and a roof over your head. You get to help people, you get warm food and you do have friends that are like family. You just miss what you had before. You wish you could have both.

You don’t look back at the diner as you walk away.

Being an Avenger isn’t easy. In TV shows, in the films, in comic books and in the news, they make it looks so easy. They make it look like you just show up and save the day effortlessly and because you’re an idol, because you’re a hero, that your life is perfect. People want to be you, fans want you to sign things, people cheer as you pass. But it’s not like that, not in reality.

For a start, being part of the Avengers involves huge sacrifice. It’s not over in minutes, you don’t know what you’re doing in battle, you have to work things out when you’re there. You don’t go home at the end of the day and go out for drinks, you don’t celebrate and smile as fans congratulate you. You go home to the infirmary and get patched up. Some injuries are so bad you walk around for days wincing in pain. You don’t sleep well for nights, having nightmares because of your close encounter with death, or that person you were a second too late to save. You grit your teeth, live on the edge, waiting for the next fight, wistfully hoping it’s not your last.

Being a ‘hero’ isn’t joy and rainbows like the media says. It’s not easy. It’s not a choice. It’s a chore, a job, a duty.

You rub your forehead tiredly and swallow down your feelings of emotion and dissatisfaction. Your feet drag as you walk, your head hangs low, your arms wrap tightly around yourself as you shiver from the cold night.

You’re about and hour and a half walk from the tower. You have no phone to call anyone, you have no cash to pay a cab driver. Your stomach rumbles and you remember that you had lunch today, and didn’t feel like eating dinner. You check your watch: it flashes 01:17 am at you. You’ve been out for about eight hours by now. You think about the distance you’ll have to walk to get back to the tower and feel like giving up, like lying on the floor here and now. You spot another familiar building and go around the back, away from the roads and cars. No one is around, but you couldn’t really care less if you get caught. You steadily scale and climb up the building, your hands chafing and your fingers getting cut from the stone and bricks you’re gripping tightly as you haul yourself up.

It takes a few minutes, but then you’re at the top and you pull yourself up to stand. You walk over to the edge of the building facing the road and drop yourself down to sit, your legs dangling off of the edge. You sigh miserably and watch the cars flit by.

It could be minutes, it could be hours, it could be mere seconds, or it could be years later for all you care, but suddenly a warm hand rests on your shoulder. You almost leap a foot in the air in surprise. A light, familiar chuckle sounds out behind you, a figure sitting by your side. You tilt your head and see the familiar face of Bucky. He gives you a soft, knowing smile.

“You went to the diner again.” It’s a statement, not a question, but you nod anyway. He sighs and says a soft, “Come ‘ere,” and wraps an arm around you. You snuggle into his warm frame. He kisses your temple and you watch the cars pass together. You notice Bucky move his hand around in his pocket and pull out something wrapped up in a small bag. “I got you this,” he says with a hint of amusement in his voice. You know exactly what it is. You lips wobble as you try to suppress a smile. It’s your favourite chocolate. He pulls it out of the bag and you take it gratefully. You then realise why he sounds so amused and you give him a knowing look.

“It melted in your pocket, didn’t it.” He grins at you and your snort. With the serum rushing through his veins, it means Bucky is a living furnace. Chocolate always melts in minutes when it’s in his pockets. You kiss his cheek, his rough stubble pressing against your lips. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“Sure thing, doll.” Wordlessly, you both pick yourselves up and make your way back down to the ground. A small meow alerts you both and you turn to see a small furball rubbing itself against your leg.

“Hey there little fella,” you coo at the cat. It purrs contentedly as you rub its back and scratch behind its ears.

“Looks like a stray,” Bucky says, crouching to pet the cat too. As you bend down, you see the cat clearly. It’s gotta be one of the ugliest cats you’ve ever seen with fang-like teeth poking over its lips, its crooked ears and it’s matted patchy fur. The cat’s so friendly though and immediately, you love it. Bucky grins, then and you meet his eyes. “Shall we take it back to the tower?” Your eyes light up with mischief then, as you think of Tony’s possible reactions to the cat.

“Tony won’t mind if we steal all his supplies,” you say with a grin. With that, you scoop up the cat and the feline curls up in your arms, purring contentedly.

Suddenly you’re not tired anymore as you’re holding the cat, smiling at Bucky, thinking up the reactions of the other Avengers when you’ll present them with the cat later.  _ Maybe change isn’t such a bad thing.  _ Your fears, your anxieties, your insecurities become muted and you think with a soft smile, _ and maybe things aren’t so bad, after all. _


End file.
